


If She Dies In Her Dreams

by Anonymous



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: """platonic""" cuddling, 610, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt Clarke Griffin, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Protective Bellamy Blake, Season/Series 06, Sharing a Bed, discussion of Clarke's thoughts of suicide, vulnerability/tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 06:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20848925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Set in the immediate aftermath of Clarke waking up after Bellamy performs CPR. Clarke doesn’t remember everything that happened right away, but it all comes back before too long, and she gets the chance to open up to Bellamy about some of what happened in her mind space.





	If She Dies In Her Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> We got a lot of glorious hurt/comfort in the aftermath of the CPR scene, but I am insatiable. So I went ahead and wrote more.  
Title/quote at the top from Devil Like Me by Rainbow Kitten Surprise.

_ Does the devil get scared if she dies in her dreams, where the earth burns? _

Being brought back to life was a lot like waking up, except instead of finding yourself warm in bed you feel like someone buried you in the coldest snows of the arctic and forgot you there. Even above all the pain that seared her chest and pounded behind her eyes, the loudest and most urgent thought in Clarke’s mind after she took her first gasped breath into consciousness was that she was cold. So, so cold. 

Before she could bring herself to open her eyes Clarke reached up to touch one of the hands that cupped her face. Heat seeped from his hands into her cheeks and she wanted to keep them there, wanted to curl up into his warmth and let it ease away the tremors that were beginning to wrack her body. She didn’t need to look to know whose face she would find above hers. She would recognize the feel of his touch anywhere. 

“Clarke?” He spoke when her fingers reached the top of his hand and traced up the strong tendons she found there to settle her palm atop his knuckles, trapping his warmth to her cheek. She didn’t think she’d ever heard his voice sound so small and afraid, and though her eyelids felt as heavy as concrete she dragged them open. The need to reassure him was stronger than the pull of exhaustion that seemed desperate to bring her back into darkness. She met his gaze immediately and he was looking at her with so much tenderness, concern and hopefulness that Clarke would have almost believed she was in one of her dreams, if it weren’t for the extreme sharpness of the pain in her body and the vividly real feel of his touch. 

Her voice was just a quiet rasp when she finally spoke, and the only thing she could think to say was, “Bellamy.” 

“Oh thank god.” He responded immediately and they both moved to satisfy the sudden, overwhelming urge to be in each other’s arms. Clarke clenched her stomach in an attempt to lift herself but an aggressive wave of nausea pulled a whimper from her, and forced her to lean heavily into Bellamy’s arms as he eased her up. “You’re okay, you’re okay. I’m here.” In that moment she didn’t want him to ever be anywhere else. 

The warmth of his arms was soothing but there was a coldness deep in her bones that continued to wrack her body with shivers as she sagged into Bellamy’s chest. Her voice seemed lost to her but it hardly mattered. He felt her pain like it was his own. And maybe it was. 

“She’s- she feels cold, Gabriel, I need a blanket, please.” His voice came from above her head and she felt the rumble of it against her ear. The name Gabriel tickled something in the back of her brain but she couldn’t quite place it. Who was Gabriel? The thick fog of pain consumed her thoughts and it seemed that little else could make it to the front of her mind.

“Here, Bell, I found this.” Octavia? When did Octavia get back? She wanted to ask but then Bellamy wrapped her in something soft and warm and all she had the strength to do was sink into it as the violent tremors in her body slowly eased. Her eyes settled closed again.

“Clarke, say something, please. Are you in pain?” 

She was. Her whole body ached and her chest felt like it’d been hit with a sledge hammer. The back of her neck burned and her head hurt so badly that she almost wanted to put a bullet in it just to make it go away. But she didn’t say that. Because even in the confused and agonized state her mind was in, she could piece together what the pain in her chest and the lingering tingle of drying wetness on her mouth meant. She knew without a doubt that what she whispered next was true. “You saved me.” 

His arms tightened around her painfully but she didn’t object. “I can’t lose you. Not again.” 

Clarke fought desperately to stay awake even as her body demanded rest, demanded the time that it needed to heal. But the last thing she remembered was laying on Russell’s table, thinking it was the end for her, and slipping into darkness when he injected her with whatever poison was in that needle. Pieces of other memories and details seemed to rest just out of reach, like her mind was the ocean and they were covered in sand and muck at the very bottom. Fragments peeked out tantalizingly that she struggled to grasp before they disappeared deeper into the mud. A flash of her father? A woman, unwelcome but for unknown reasons. Bellamy, chained up in a cave while she ran away. These were just flashes, and she couldn’t figure out how they connected. It felt like trying to remember a dream as it slipped through her fingers back to the corners of her subconscious, but more real, more dire. It didn’t make any sense. 

“What,” her voice grated painfully in her throat and she coughed in an unsuccessful attempt to clear it. The cup of water Bellamy seemed to magic out of thin air and held to her lips helped much more. “What happened?” She asked after a small sip. 

Silence met her question and she glanced up and around to see Bellamy looking down at her, brow furrowed in concern, and a man on the other side of the table, with much the same expression. 

“What do you remember, Clarke?” Gabriel asked, and she knew he was Gabriel, though she still couldn’t place why his face and name were so familiar. 

“I don’t...” she paused as she tried to piece together what she knew for sure. “I know Cillian paralyzed me.”

“I’ll kill him. He’ll never lay a finger on you again.” Bellamy’s voice was thick with barely restrained anger, and Clarke had no doubt he would follow through on that threat, if he could. She shook her head and tightened her grip on the fabric of his shirt, reminding him she was safe. 

“He’s already dead. He killed himself when Russel’s men caught him, before he could take me to the Children of-” Clarke’s eyes widened as she made the connection, and a shot of fear struck through her heart.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Clarke. He’s an ally. He helped me save you.” Bellamy eased the sudden tension in Clarke’s body with the gentle movements of his thumb against her shoulder. 

Octavia moved into Clarke’s light of sight then, as she went to stand next to Gabriel on the other side of the table. “It’s true. Gabriel only wanted to stop the primes, not hurt anyone else. He’s seeking redemption.”

Clarke nodded, touched to see Octavia standing up for this all-but stranger. “I believe you. Cillian wasn’t the real danger to me, either way. After Russel’s men found us I thought it would be okay, that they would undo the effects of whatever paralytic he used. But he didn’t.” Clarke’s breath caught painfully in her chest as she relived the bone-chilling fear she’d felt lying there on Russell and Simone’s operating table. The terror of what they would do to her and her complete inability to move or help herself in any way had been a visceral, tangible feeling and it clogged her throat even now, making it hard to get air into her lungs, let alone words out of her mouth, though she struggled to continue despite it. “He didn’t, he-” Clarke felt the tears, hot and fresh, spilling down her cheeks.

“Shhh, shh, you don’t have to say any more.” One of Bellamy’s arms around her shoulders moved up to cradle the back of her head, giving her permission to hide her tears against his chest. She didn’t want to feel like this anymore, frail and in pain, but in that moment she knew she could trust Bellamy, and Octavia as well, to be strong for her. “This is too much, we shouldn’t have pushed her. She just- she needs to rest. We can fill her in tomorrow.” Bellamy addressed the others quietly, like the protective circle of his arms was enough to hide her even from her own weakness. 

“No, no, Bellamy,” spurred by the desire to know what had happened, Clarke wriggled slightly in protest, until Bellamy let her pull back just enough to see his face. He made no effort to hide the tear tracks on his own face, and Clarke felt a deep stab of regret about the extent to which he absorbed her pain and felt it as his own. She didn’t want to be the cause of anymore hurt to him, didn’t want to add to his already impossibly heavy burdens. Still, she needed to know. “I need to know, I-” she yawned so widely that she heard her jaw pop with the strain of it.

“I know, princess. I know you do.” Her eyes fluttered closed instinctively as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, tickling her skin with his beard. Her eyelids were so, so heavy, and she left them shut even after his lips left her. “But you’re exhausted, and I know you’re in pain. You need to sleep. I promise we’ll tell you everything in the morning. 

“Promise?” She whispered, uncaring of how childish it sounded. Bellamy was right, she needed sleep like she’d never needed it before. It was like she was treading water, fighting desperately to keep her head above the surface, to stay conscious just a little longer. But exhaustion and pain were heavy weights, and only getting heavier, intent on dragging her down.

“I promise.” He assured her softly, as she stopped fighting and let herself sink just below the surface. Her head sank against his chest and the steady beat of his heart lulled her deeper into the realms of the unconscious. She distantly registered an arm being slipped under her knees, and realized she was being cradled and lifted like a child. Safe as she felt in his arms, sleep had claimed her fully before her head was even laid on the pillow of Gabriel’s small cot. 

For all the peaceful feelings she’d fallen asleep with, Clarke woke soon after in a state of complete and utter panic, bolting upright and heaving in gasps of air like the oxygen had been sucked from her lungs. And maybe it had. The echo of her own scream rang in her ears and her heart pounded so painfully in her chest that she thought her rib cage might break open with the ferocity of it. 

“Clarke!” A chair screeched back and clattered to the floor, and some of the warmth on Clarke’s legs disappeared. Bellamy must have fallen asleep sitting next to her bed, head pillowed by her lap. He was at her side in an instant. One of his hands grasped her elbow and the other cupped her cheek and tried to still her frantic movements as she looked around, searching, desperate. “It was just a dream, Clarke, a nightmare, you’re okay now, you’re safe.” 

It was still dark out, and there was only one small source of light in the tent. Clarke looked around desperately, convinced that Josephine would be standing somewhere, watching her, waiting for her to let her guard down. But it was just her and Bellamy, alone in the soft glow of the lantern. Gabriel and Octavia must have gone somewhere else to rest, or maybe they were on watch. 

“I saw her, Bellamy,” she finally gasped out, letting him turn her gaze to him. “Josephine. I remember, Bellamy, oh god, I remember. She was there, in my head, trying to kill me.” She lifted her hand to grasp at his forearm, and somehow felt surprised to see it shaking. Her whole body was. 

“She’s gone, Josephine is gone. We made sure of it.” He ran his hand soothingly up and down her arm. “She can’t hurt you.”

Clarke nodded, knowing he was right, but unable to convince her body, which still quivered with tension, in full flight or fight mode. The cot she was on was small, but she moved to the side, extending a silent invitation to him, or perhaps a plea. 

He sat on the edge and she watched as he bent to unlace his boots and toed them off before bringing his legs up parallel to hers. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and when she curled into him, leaned back slowly onto the bed. Clarke might have been embarrassed about seeking out this physical comfort if Bellamy was anyone else, but he wasn’t. He was him, and he would never judge her for it. His beard tickled her forehead as she settled comfortably into his side with her head pillowed by his collar. 

“How long?” She whispered. “How long was she... me?” 

He didn’t answer right away. Just continued to run his fingers lightly up and down her arm, easing her tremors.

“How long, Bellamy? Please. I need to know.”

“A few days. It was... god, Clarke, it was the worst few days of my life. I found out who she was the day after the party and I thought I’d lost you all over again.” 

Clarke was grateful in that moment that she couldn’t see his face. The pain in his voice alone was almost too much to bear. 

“How did you know? That she wasn’t me?” It was a question she was dying to ask, but for some reason also felt a bit afraid to know the answer to. 

“Looking back, I should have known right away. You didn’t seem like yourself, but you still obviously looked like... you. The possibility that you could be anyone else just didn’t- it didn’t even occur to me at first. It wasn’t until I tried talking to you in Trig that I realized.”

“Briyon.” _ Smart. _ “Then what? I figured out a little more about how to... listen in, I guess, after you got her out of Sanctum, but for a while I was just in my own space.”

“Well, she definitely wasn’t too happy to have been found out. She paralyzed me and locked me up, and... I’m not gonna lie Clarke, I was ready to burn it all to the ground. I almost killed Russell, and probably would have. But the voices of you and Monty, wanting to do better, to end the cycle of violence held me back. I wanted revenge so, so badly, but I also didn’t want to do wrong by you. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I agreed to a deal to keep our people safe. That was before I realized you were still in there somewhere, and we could get you back.” 

“Mmm.” Clarke decided then that she wouldn’t tell him that she’d seen that part, that Josephine had shown her Bellamy agreeing to some kind of deal, and that it had been part of the reason she’d almost given up. He didn’t need to know. 

“Monty helped me too. In the mind space.”

“Can you tell me about it?” Bellamy asked softly. “Where you were, while Jo was in control?”

Clarke watched her finger trace aimless shapes on his chest as she debated with herself about how much to tell him about her time in her mind space. She wanted to be honest with him, but she also didn’t want to cause him any undue hurt. It was a fine line to walk, considering what she’d been through. 

“At first I thought it was just some kind of very vivid dream. I was in my cell from the ark, back when I was in the skybox. But all my memories were covering the walls, like I’d drawn them. I saw my dad, too. It felt like... for a while it felt like peace.” Clarke’s heart sped up a little as she remembered when it turned into more of a nightmare than a dream. “But there was another door that didn’t match, one I’d never seen before. It was the door to Josephine’s mind space, and that’s when everything started getting worse. I tried fighting her for a while, but she just kept coming back.” Clarke took a deep breath to steady herself and tried to figure out how to explain to him what happened next.

“I almost gave up.” She finally settled on. “It seemed like... not just the only choice, but the best one. Josephine promised, proved really, that you would all be okay without me. Maybe even better off.”

“Clarke, that isn’t-”

“I know, I... I know. But it’s just been so hard for so, so long. And there are some things that have happened since we got here, things that I don’t think I’m even ready to talk about yet, but that just made it so much easier to believe her, to just let myself... rest. So I let her have the memory that showed her how to get rid of me. And I thought that would finally be it. My fight was over.” 

There was still so much he didn’t know about her experience during the eclipse. She didn’t want to tell him yet how deeply his words had cut when he’d told her _ I don’t need you anymore _. And she certainly wasn’t ready to tell him about what she’d heard in her own head, that had driven her to hold a knife to her own throat. How everyone’s hate for her was slowly digging away at her soul, chipping away at what was already a frail will to live. One day she would tell him everything. But not yet. 

“But you didn’t give up.” His hand squeezed her waist. “I got your message, the Morse code. It was genius.”

“It was Monty’s idea. He was there, in my mind with me. Him and Wells, they convinced me to try, to not give up on myself. I guess some part of my subconscious knew they’d be disappointed in me for giving up. And, I think that they wouldn’t want me to die like they did. Alone.” Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face just a little more into his chest before admitting, “I don’t want to die alone. I don’t want to die at all.”

The relief of getting even that small part of her pain off her chest was like a physical weight being lifted from her shoulders, and she wasn’t crying anymore. Bellamy, however, could do little to stop the tears that streamed from the corners of his eyes. Clarke couldn’t see it, but she could feel it in his chest, in the way it shuddered even as he tried to keep his breathing deep and even. 

“It’s okay though.” Her palm flattened against his heart and she moved her thumb reassuringly back and forth. “I’m still here. Thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do anything, not really. I just made sure you could keep fighting. The rest was all you.”

“You did more than that. First you were paying enough attention to understand the Morse code. Then you got Josephine out of sanctum. You made sure I escaped that cave with the children of Gabriel, even though I had to leave you behind. I remember, Bellamy. Let me thank you. For keeping me alive.” 

The small callback to what now seemed like a simpler time, though it certainly wasn’t, brought a small smile to Bellamy’s lips. “You don’t make it easy.” 

They shared a soft huff of laughter, but he continued in seriousness, “Clarke, I need you to know I’d do it all again. A hundred times over, if that’s what it took to keep you safe. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you this time-” 

“You don’t need to-”

“Shh. I know.” He pressed another kiss to her head, and Clarke quieted. “I know you’re not my responsibility. But I just want you safe, I need... I need you. If I could have jumped into your brain and fought Josephine for you, I would have.” 

Clarke was deeply moved by Bellamy’s words, but still had to laugh at the picture that put in her mind. “Oh, god, I can imagine. She would have kept coming back every time you killed her, but that would have been something. But really, thank you.” Clarke paused to yawn widely as she melted impossibly further into Bellamy’s warmth. “I’d do the same for you.” 

The sweet call of sleep was slowly luring her away once again, but there was still one last question hovering in Clarke’s mind. She had to voice it before she’d let sleep claim her. 

“Did I... die? I think I died in the mind space, but it’s less clear than the other memories from there. More like a dream.”

“You did.” His voice cracked as he re-lived his own worst nightmare. “Your heart stopped.”

The fabric of his shirt rubbed against her cheek as she nodded. He’d confirmed what she had already suspected, but hadn’t known for sure. 

“I wonder if it’s true, then.”

“If what is?” 

“That when you die in your dreams, you die for real.” 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He huffed a soft laugh. “If it is, I’m going to have to insist on following you into your dreams. Make sure you don’t go getting yourself into too much trouble.” 

Clarke was already beginning to drift back into sleep, and wasn’t quite sure if she said this aloud or just thought it. “You’re already there.” 

Bellamy stayed awake, staring at the ceiling of the tent after Clarke’s breaths evened out and he knew she was asleep. There couldn’t be much more time before dawn, and he should be trying to get some rest while he could as well. But there were too many thoughts bouncing around in his head, all of them concerning the woman in his arms. 

He wanted to tell her that he loved her. He and Echo had broken up that night of the party, and while he regretted that that’s what he was busy doing while Clarke was being paralyzed and body snatched by a couple of desperate immortals, he was glad that he and Echo had had that conversation. 

But now that he could be honest with himself about his feelings for Clarke, he couldn’t help but worry that this wasn’t the right time to tell her. Come morning there was still the daunting task to figure out how to get their friends out of Sanctum, and beyond that, how to survive on a planet that seemed determined to kill them at every turn. He still had hope, though. After all, this wasn’t even the first planet they’d been dropped on completely unprepared. If he waited for the right time, it might never come. 

His mind began to quiet and Bellamy drifted closer and closer to sleep. But before he followed Clarke into the world of dreams, he resolved with himself that he would tell her how he felt. In the morning, Bellamy would tell Clarke Griffin that he loved her.

_ The colder the night, the warmer your hands hold _

_ Held in your arms, the hole in my head grows whole _

_ I don’t wanna die alone, but I don’t wanna die at all _ (-All’s Well That Ends, RKS)


End file.
